First Blade (Awakening Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Author Notes

  First Blade

  Book One - The Awakening Series

  Jane Hinchey

  First Blade © 2017 Jane Hinchey

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  First Blade – Edit History

  RELEASED – 19 November 2015

  TWEAKED – 20 January 2017

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Author Notes

  Acknowledgments

  My debut novel was a long time in the making and while the writing part was solitary, publishing the book was not. I’m blessed to have such amazing people help me on my author journey.

  My beautiful cover is all due to the wonderful talents of Angela from Covered Creatively – extra shout out, she did the covers for the entire series! Thank you.

  My beta readers, especially Annette who stayed up late to finish reading because she couldn’t put it down – thank you! Without your support in those early days, none of this would have been possible.

  To my reader's group, Jane’s Little Devils, your support means the world. Thanks for reading (and loving) my books. You guys rock!

  And finally – my family – thank you. You couldn’t see what I could see at the start of this crazy journey, but thanks for supporting me anyway. Love you.

  1

  With his hands dripping in blood and the severed head of the demon lying at his feet, Zak took no time in savoring the victory - he'd never seen demons in these numbers before and if he and his men intended to get out of this alive, they needed to stay focused. The putrid sulfur of their stench assaulted his senses, making his eyes burn.

  Across the room, Aston was battling two demons, a sword in one hand, dagger in the other. Dainton was at his back, lunging at an already wounded demon, slashing deeply across his torso revealing flesh and bone.

  Cole, Kyan, and Heath were knee deep in bloody corpses, ripping off heads and tossing them, wading their way through the gore, eyes burning red with the thrill of the fight. He'd taught his team well, and they hadn't disappointed him.

  Loud explosions could be heard from outside, rattling the building. A flash of lightning erupted from a demon's hand and snaked across the room toward him. Fucking demons. Zak snatched the demon by its neck. He lifted it over his shoulders and snapped its body over his knee, then flung the demon aside. Frank was tangling with three other demons, wincing when one sent him smashing into a wall. Zak was there in an instant, pulling Frank to his feet, pausing for a moment. Frank's shoulder healed instantly at Zak's touch. Frank slapped him on the back in thanks before jumping back into the fray.

  Heath was throwing demons across the room, bodies flying. Zak caught another, this time tearing out its throat with his fangs before tossing the body. Another flew past and he grabbed, twisting off its head and throwing it like a soccer ball.

  Another explosion, louder than the first, rocked the building. The ground bucked, throwing them down and toppling demons.

  Veronica appeared in the doorway, hands against the frame as she struggled to remain on her feet with the building trembling and buckling around them.

  "Zak!" she shouted, "we have to get out. Now! The house is collapsing. The fuckers have rigged explosives."

  "Everyone out!" Zak bellowed, eyes scanning the room for his warriors. Frank, his head of security, was on the far side, shoving the body of a demon off of himself as he surged back to his feet. Aston, Dainton, Cole, Kyan and Heath made up his team of warriors, and what a team they were. Elite fighting machines, they were highly skilled at what they did - and not a bad bunch of blokes in the bargain. The five of them headed toward the door, flinging demons as they went.

  Parts of the ceiling were starting to collapse as they hurried down the hallway. The lights flickered, then went off, but none of them needed light to see. Demons still came at them, but the Warriors flicked them off as if they were nothing more bothersome than a fly.

  Crashing through the back door of the house they tumbled out onto the lawn. Veronica had already evacuated the domestic staff, a group of four humans who stood huddled behind her, dazed and afraid.

  Zak stood on the lawn and watched as his house collapsed with a roar, the center caving in first, the roof buckling inwards like it was being sucked into a black hole. Within minutes the house was razed, nothing remaining but a plume of dust.

  His warriors stood in formation around him, watching, as he did, with no emotion as their home was destroyed. While the loss of his home pissed him off, it wasn't the end of the world. He had plenty of resources; finding shelter for them was not an issue. What had his blood boiling was the fifty or more demons who were facing them from the other side of the pile of rubble that used to be his house.

  Zak's control slipped and power coursed through him. He'd forgotten what it felt like to just let go and let his magic absorb him.

  Frank glanced at him; he could feel the power in the air that was now filled with electricity. He ordered the warriors back, away from Zak. They didn't want to be close to him when he unleashed the full potential of his power.

  Zak raised his hands, the air bent around him as his power unfurled in a red haze. The demons were bounding like hellhounds across the debris, intent on getting to him and ripping him to pie
ces. They had no chance.

  Releasing his magic, a pulse of raw energy swept from his open hands in a wide arc before him, blasting the demons into oblivion before they even got close. They disintegrated in front of him, no blood, no bones, simply piles of ash. Felled in one swoop, the air was now still and eerily silent.

  "Holy Fuck!" Heath muttered behind him. "That was some red hot shit right there."

  Zak turned to face his warriors, his eyes still glowing red.

  "You are well?" His gaze swept across them, searching for injuries. They nodded in reassurance, a few minor scrapes, clothing torn and covered in blood, but unhurt. He pulled in several deep breaths, quieting his magic, letting it settle back inside of him. Now that it'd had a taste of action, it wanted to come out and play. Zak had no intentions of letting that happen - his house may have been destroyed, but he'd be damned if he would allow himself to cut loose and destroy the rest of the world, for that was what would happen if he truly allowed his magic to take over.

  Frank stepped up to him and murmured quietly "Your ring." He nodded at Zak's hand.

  The ring was understated in design, a pattern of three ribbons intertwined with different shades of platinum and gold that adorned the ring finger on his right hand. Only now, one of the rivers was no longer platinum but glowed red as blood now flowed through the design. A beautiful, but chilling effect as the thin red ribbon twisted and wove around his finger as if alive.

  "It has been activated." His words were calm, belying the anxiety that suddenly rushed through him. For the ring to be activated, the dagger had not only been found, but that too had been awakened. With blood. This wasn't good, wasn't good at all.

  2

  "Ouch!" Georgia pulled her hand out of the hidden cavity she'd just found behind a stone brick in the old stable wall. She'd been moving boxes when she'd noticed one of the handcrafted bricks was sitting slightly farther back than the others. She'd pushed at it and to her surprise, she'd heard a clicking and grinding noise and the brick had slid backward, revealing a dark hidey-hole in the wall. Of course, she'd put her hand in to feel around to see if anything was hidden inside.

  Snatching her hand back she hoped that the sharp sting had not been the bite of a spider! Glancing down at her hand she was somewhat relieved to see an inch long cut on her index finger. The cut oozed blood, but the edges looked clean - it hadn't been a jagged or particularly nasty cut, and would be easily treated with some antiseptic ointment and a band-aid.

  Rising from her kneeling position in front of the wall, she crossed to her workbench and pulled the first aid kit toward her, efficiently dealing with the injury before grabbing a torch and heading back to the brick cavity, determined to see what was hidden there.

  "What have you got hiding in here, hmmmm? Must be important to warrant all this trouble." Muttering to herself she flicked the flashlight on and peered into the black space. The area had been hollowed out to the size of a shoebox and there at the bottom was what looked like an old cloth with...was that a knife? Frowning, she reached her hand in, more carefully this time, and scooped her fingers beneath the cloth, carefully lifting it out. Laying the fabric on the floor she smoothed it out, revealing the old, dull knife that now had a smear of her blood on its blade. She supposed it looked like a dagger, rather than a knife. It was the length of her forearm with some sort of woven design on the handle. The blade looked dirty and dusty but it wasn't rusted. Overall it had a very medieval look about it. Her curiosity was definitely piqued as to why it had been hidden in her stable wall.

  Returning to the workbench, she pulled a clean rag out and cleaned the dagger. As she wiped and polished, she noticed the design on the handle seemed to glow and change color. The design was beautiful, unlike anything she'd seen before. It appeared to be three ribbons, weaving around each other but twisting around the handle as well. One ribbon was a gold color, one silver and the third looked to be red, only it wasn't a gem. Peering closely Georgia tried to make out what the red material was; it appeared to glow in a very unusual way.

  After polishing the blade to a gleaming silver she held the dagger out in front of her and practiced a couple of thrusts with it. While it looked like it should have been heavy, in her grip it was actually quite light. Putting the dagger aside she turned her attention to the cloth it had been wrapped in.

  The cloth appeared to be leather, and after shaking out the dust she could see there were faint markings on it. Peering closely she couldn't make out if it was writing, symbols or simply a pattern etched into the leather. She'd have to get some cleaning solution next time she was in town and see if she couldn't clean the cloth up to get a good look at the design. In the meantime, she wrapped the dagger back in the cloth and took it with her into the farmhouse.

  "Georgia, are you even listening to me!" Skye demanded. Georgia held the cell phone away from her ear - her sister's screeching was not helping her hangover one iota.

  "I'm listening."

  "Oh for god's sake. Sober up. It's busy as hell; get your ass down here." Clearly annoyed, she hung up.

  Struggling out of bed, Georgia made her way into the bathroom, wincing at the bright light. She pried her eyes open, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Good grief. Most of her hair had come loose from its braid and was now a wild beehive around her head; her tanned skin was an unhealthy ashen gray and her green eyes had lost their usual sparkle, to be replaced with dull pain. Stunning, not.

  The shower felt like heaven. Steam and water revived her as they rushed over her body, and brain cells struggled to the surface, freeing them from the alcoholic blur of the previous night. As she tried to work some of the soreness out of her muscles her mind went back to the dream. The same dream she'd had almost every night since finding that damn dagger a month ago.

  Every night a man appeared from the recesses of her mind as if he was waiting for sleep to claim her. She couldn't see his features fully, yet he was the epitome of sensuality, of male magnetism and allure. They never touched, yet her skin burned as if he'd run his fingers across her flesh; her lips tingled as if a kiss as light as air had landed on them. He teased her in her dreams and she yearned for him.

  She'd wake in the morning, frustrated and horny and no closer to discovering who was haunting her dreams. She figured her dreams were being invaded, but couldn't work out how or why. Her ability was visions. She could touch a person and catch a glimpse of their future. Sometimes she could see the past from touching inanimate objects. The dreams were way different from anything she'd ever seen or done before. Yet somehow, they were connected. She just needed to figure out how.

  Never one to bother much with makeup, she quickly ran tinted moisturizer over her face, made a half-hearted effort at covering the shadows beneath her eyes, then braided her long dark hair, leaving it to dry in the braid hanging down her back. No hair dryer this morning; the sound alone would make her brain melt thanks to her hangover. A swipe of lip gloss and she was done.

  Jeans and a white cotton blouse were the uniform of the day. Her generous breasts pulled against the fabric, straining to send the buttons flying, so she left the top two undone, allowing a generous view of cleavage. She'd discovered, quite by accident, that displaying 'the girls' in the shop helped close the sale a whole lot faster. Wives and girlfriends didn't appreciate the view, but the boyfriends and husbands did, and they were the ones being dragged around the antique stores on their precious days off. And they were the ones with the fat wallets.

  Downtown Redmeadows was a sleepy strip of two-story buildings, mom-n-dad owned shops, and more antique shops than you could shake a stick at. Georgia and her younger sister Skye owned one of those antique stores. Behind the Times was nestled between a bookstore and a boutique fashion store, and quite conveniently, Georgia thought, across the road from a pub. The irony being that it was Skye who lived in the small apartment above the shop, therefore in walking distance of said pub. Yet it was Georgia, the lush of the family according to Skye, who lived twenty m
inutes out of town.

  Fixing a coffee in her travel mug, Georgia hurried out to her fully restored 1942 candy apple red Ford Jailbar. It'd been forgotten in the old stable on the five acres of land she'd bought a few years ago, along with the derelict farmhouse she'd renovated and now lived in. The Jailbar had been the old town tow truck back in the day, and Georgia had been delighted to discover it rusting away in the stable.

  She placed her travel mug in its holder and gunned the engine, sliding the back end out as she fishtailed the truck down the gravel driveway, stereo muted somewhat from its usual 'blasting' setting in consideration of her pounding head.

  Georgia walked into Behind the Times exactly forty-five minutes after Skye had called.

  "It's almost ten," Skye said, tapping her watch. She wore jeans and a red and white polka dot blouse tied at her waist. On her feet were red pumps, and her blonde curls were pulled up into a cute high ponytail with a red scarf tied around her head. Very retro, but it suited her.

  "It’s closer to nine thirty," Georgia argued, stalking past the counter to the small office beyond. Crammed to overflowing with a couple of filing cabinets, an old wooden desk that she really must get around to renovating and a couple of chairs, there was barely room for one person, let alone two. Dropping her keys and mobile phone onto the desk, she closed the door behind her and moved to stand behind the counter.

  "Run off your feet?" she inquired in disbelief with an arch of a brow, indicating the handful of people browsing through the store.